


Oh What A Night

by afteriwake



Series: The Best Laid Plans [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Drunk McCoy, Drunk Molly, Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Eating, F/M, Fade to Black, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, Male-Female Friendship, McCoy is a Good Friend, Morning After, Morning Kisses, Morning Sex, Morning Wood, Neck Kissing, POV Leonard McCoy, POV McCoy, Plans, Plans To Make Sherlock Jealous, Sad Molly, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with Sherlock that leaves Molly embarrassed and in tears, Molly suggests going to her place and spending time there. What McCoy <i>doesn’t</i> count on happening is getting very drunk or falling into bed with her...or the proposition she has for him in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sideofrawr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sideofrawr/gifts).



> So this is a double milestone fic! Not only is this my 700th Sherlock fic, it's also my 100th Star Trek: Alternate Original Series fic! I'm so pleased to have hit two very big milestones with a McMolly fic. ::throws confetti:: This was written for **sideofrawr** who is the second biggest McCoy/Molly fan I know. She wanted a fic that started with a sentence from [these](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/142534142233/random-sentence-starters) sentence starters (unfortunately I couldn't figure out a way to actually start the fic with the sentence “I am NOT crying, okay?! I’m allergic to jerks!” so I just had that be the first bit of dialogue) and I also answered another prompt of hers, which was to use a prompt from the list of [nonsexual acts of intimacy](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/137274126169/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the), in this case being " _reacting to the other one crying about something_."

He had just opened up the front door when he heard Sherlock’s scathing tones from the sitting room and groaned. Sherlock had been in a foul mood for the last few weeks and was taking it out on everyone, even his goddaughter, apparently. Mary had had enough and snapped back; she and John were ignoring him, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade were taking it in stride, which meant…

He looked up and saw Molly dashing down the stairs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going and before he could say a word she gave him a stern look. “I am _not_ crying, okay?! I’m allergic to jerks!” she said, trying to move around him.

“Hey,” McCoy said, reaching out to place his hands on her shoulders. “Sherlock’s being a dick to everyone lately. If you want, I can go up to the living room and go punch him a few times.”

Molly sniffed slightly but she smiled at that. “No, it’s all right,” she said.

“At least it got a grin out of you,” he said. Truth be told, he really did want to clock Sherlock about the head a few times for making Molly cry. Now that the two of them had worked out their differences, he found he liked her, liked being around her, and _didn’t_ like seeing her hurt. And the fact she was attracted to an asshole like Sherlock who trampled all over her heart the way he did...Sherlock needed a kick in the ass, really.

“I really shouldn’t have come over,” she said. “It all could have been done over the phone, or through email. It wasn’t all that important, really.”

“But you wanted to see him,” McCoy said.

“Yeah,” she replied. She was quiet for a moment. “I should probably go. You don’t need to waste any more time on me tonight.”

“Lady, I got all the time in the world to waste on you tonight,” he said with a grin, moving his hands away from her shoulders and then offering her his arm. “If I stay here I’ll probably punch his lights out because he’ll spend hours playing his violin when I want to sleep. Better to spend a few hours with you and be in stellar company than be with _him_.”

“We could go to my home, I suppose,” she said. “You haven’t been there since I redecorated yet, have you?”

He shook his head. “No, you’ve haven't invited me over yet.”

“Then let me do so now. Have you eaten yet?” 

“No,” he said. “Came straight home from the surgery to...well, this. I was going to get takeout and take it up to my room and just ignore what a pain in the ass my flatmate is being.” He turned them both towards the door and then opened it to let them both out. “What crawled up his ass and died, anyway?”

“A complicated case,” she said. “Normally he solves them quickly but for some reason this case has stumped him and he’s turned into an absolute beast.”

“You’re telling me,” he said with a slight snort. “I swear to God, if I didn’t think I’d get brought up on charges I’d probably murder him.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, don’t do that!” she said. “When he solves it, he’ll go back to normal. You’ll see. It will just take time.” She paused. “I hope.”

“Yeah, well, sooner would be better than later. I’m not sure how much more of his crap I can take before I deck him.” They stepped outside and he shut the door behind them, and then removed his arm from her grip and locked it, just to be on the safe side. No one else needed to deal with Sherlock when he was being an ass at the moment. He felt bad enough leaving Mrs. Hudson in there, but he was fairly sure she had some...well, “herbal refreshers” that would keep her nice and mellow while Sherlock had his little temper tantrum. Once the door was locked he offered his arm to Molly again. “Why don’t I buy us something to eat so you don’t have to cook? Least I can do for barging in on your evening.”

“Oh, I don’t mind cooking,” she said, giving him a smile. “It’s actually quite relaxing. I tend to bake up a storm when I’m stressed. If you ever see a huge plate of biscuits at the surgery on John’s desk, I had a bad day.” She paused. “There may be a plate on your desk as well, perhaps.”

“I’m assuming you mean cookie biscuits, not the type of biscuits I’m used to,” he said with a small grin.

She smiled a little wider and nodded. “Yes, I mean those. Though if you really want your biscuits, I suppose I could whip up a batch. They aren’t too hard to make, are they?”

“My mama used to make them really easily,” he said. “And I’m sure with the proliferation of the internet it shouldn’t be that hard to get a Southern biscuit recipe you can adapt to the ingredients here in England. I mean, I know you guys have most of the stuff here.”

She tilted her head and looked at him as they walked to the nearest Tube station. “Is it...hard? Adjusting?”

“I think you’d have a harder time adjusting to my time and my universe than I’m having here,” he said. “But I miss the comforts of future tech. Everything here is so...primitive.” But he looked over at her and grinned. “But the company is good, so that’s one of the perks. Or at least _most_ of the company is.”

“Well, I’ll just try and make up for the company that isn’t so good,” she said, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“I think you’ll do a damn good job at that,” he said. She grinned back and he suddenly felt that maybe this evening wasn’t going to be a waste after all.


	2. Chapter 2

The changes that Molly had made in her flat were pretty nice. He knew there had been damage done by some upstairs flooding which had caused her to have to stay in a hotel for a while while her flooring was torn up and replaced and her walls were redone, and apparently she’d went ahead and had things upgraded. She had nice wood flooring put in in parts of her flat and plush carpeting in others, and the walls no longer had the rather bland wallpaper and were painted vibrant colors. She’d even gotten new art to hang up. He gave it all an approving nod as he shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on the back of her chair. “Looks pretty nice, Molly.”

“ _Pretty_ nice, Leonard?” she said with a wry smile. “If I’d had to foot the bill for this myself it would have cost a small fortune.”

He gave her a wider grin at that. “Okay. It looks very good,” he said. “Did you repaint all the rooms?”

She nodded. “The painter offered a better discount to repaint the entire place instead of just the damaged walls so I took advantage of it. My insurance payment more than covered the cost.” She set her handbag on a table by the door. “What are you in the mood for? I have the ingredients for a coconut milk based chicken curry or I can make the steak and kidney pie I was planning to make tomorrow night. I think everything’s marinated long enough, I suppose.”

“The curry sounds interesting,” he said, watching her move towards the kitchen and then following. “You never struck me as the person who’d be adventurous enough to make curry, though.”

Molly chuckled at that. “Finding people who make curry in London isn’t that hard. There’s a large South Asian influence here,” she said. “But actually, Meena and I have been best mates since uni and we bonded over our love of takeaway and our lack of money while we went through med school. We started to experiment in the little kitchenette in our flat to make the takeaway dishes we loved the most. Anything you can think of that’s a popular takeaway dish, I can probably make, especially if it’s Indian or Chinese. Meena and my other flatmate Soo Jin had family here who shared their family recipes with us.” She began pulling down ingredients. “I, in turn, taught them the glories of a proper British fry-up when we woke up hungover.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter as he watched her move around her kitchen, gathering different ingredients. “Must have been an interesting time.”

She nodded. “Meena and I stayed here in London and worked at Barts, and Soo Jin went on to Oxford and decided to teach. I run into her from time to time at various conferences. When the three of us can get together we indulge in a bit too much curry and _far_ too much wine. Those are some fun evenings.” Her smile faltered slightly. “There have been far less of those times since Soo Jin had her son and Meena got engaged, though. I feel rather like the odd one out, being perpetually single again.”

“Hey, at least you aren’t the _literal_ odd one out,” he said wryly. “I mean, there are only a handful of people who know the truth about me, and there aren’t many of them who are single.” He swirled a finger around in a circle. “Doesn’t exactly leave me a big dating pool.”

“I don’t know. You could do worse than Anthea,” Molly said with a smirk before turning to begin preparing dinner.

“Thank God you went there,” McCoy said with a snorted out laugh. “For a second I thought you were going to suggest good old Martha.”

“Lord no. She has something going on with the owner of the deli. Didn’t you know that?” She went to the chicken she had pulled out and began cutting the breasts with the knife she’d put to the side of her cutting board. “Even a woman Martha’s age can land a man. I feel completely pathetic.”

“Hey, you’re not ugly or stupid or hopeless,” he replied. “Your problem is your fixated on an asshole who wouldn’t know a good catch if he had a fishing pole in both hands and the fish damn near pulled him off the boat.” He could see the smile edging up on Molly’s face. “Good. Got you to smile again.”

“Well, I suppose Sherlock is a dolt in that way,” she said. “But he isn’t the only man not to notice me. I mean, it’s not like there’s a queue of men lining up around the block to try their hand at dating me.”

“Didn’t you say you dated a criminal mastermind once?” McCoy asked.

She nodded. “James Moriarty. He’s still causing problems for Sherlock, even though he supposedly died on the roof of Barts before Sherlock faked his death.”

“Well, maybe he’s causing problems for you, too.”

Molly stilled her cutting. “Perhaps,” she said slowly.

“And your association with Sherlock probably doesn’t help,” McCoy continued. “He’s territorial.”

“That’s true,” she said, nodding her head from side to side slightly.

“So maybe you just haven’t run into a guy ballsy enough to risk their wrath to ask you out,” he finished.

Molly stood there for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, and then she set her knife down and walked to her sink, washing her hands and then drying them with a dishtowel. When she was done she went to her living room again, and after a moment she came back with an almost full bottle of warm amber liquid and two glasses, and once McCoy realized what it was a smirk formed on his face. “I think this evening is going to call for us to get pissed if we’re going to continue to have conversations like this.”

“You cook, I’ll bartend,” he said, taking the bottle of whiskey and the shot glasses from her. He studied the size of them approvingly. “Big enough for double shots. Nice.”

“Well, I use them for tequila or vodka, mostly, but you strike me as a whiskey man,” she said as he set the glasses on her counter and then opened the bottle.

“You’re getting to know me well,” he said.

“Perhaps I’ll get to know you better,” she said as he poured the first shot. He hesitated a moment, knowing what she was implying, but then kept pouring. Hell with it, he thought to himself. He’d be a gentleman tonight. Keep himself, and her, in check. He could do that.

He hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

“Seriously? Liquidized organs?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Like pink soup,” Molly said with a laugh, picking at the last of her curry. He had lost count of how much whiskey they’d had, but it had been nicely sopped up with curry and rice, and Molly had brought out naan too and lightly fried it, which helped. He was a bit lightheaded, but he also hadn’t been filling their glasses full. Molly seemed to not be a lightweight by any means, and he wondered just how shitfaced she got with those doctor friends of her for her to hold as much liquor as he supposed they’d drank. He knew Jim and his divorce was the reason he could hold a hefty amount down. He wondered about her.

Another mystery of Molly Hooper he was eager to find out some time, he realized.

Not that he hadn’t found out the answers to questions he’d had tonight. She’d been rather talkative even before the whiskey really started flowing. It was kind of nice, having a night like this. They’d been friend _ly_ before, but maybe tonight might mark them really being _friends_ , he figured. Good to have someone like her in that group.

But he turned his attention away from her as she reached over for the bowl she’d served him his dinner in to take to the sink, and he lightly grabbed her wrist to stop her. “I’m the guest. Least I can do is help clear the table and do the dishes,” he said.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I was just going to let everything soak and pour us some more whiskey and move over to the sitting room.” She gave him a grin. “No busywork tonight. You’re here to get away from His Majesty, and...I’m enjoying this.”

“His Majesty, huh?” he asked.

She nodded. “Oh, he has all sorts of nicknames. Most of which I don’t bother to repeat. That’s the nicest.”

“You don’t have to be nice, you know,” he said in reply, and after a moment he realized he still hadn’t let go of her wrist.

“Oh I don’t, do I?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, don’t kick me out into the cold without a coat on or something, but...you don’t have to be nice to _him._ He’s not here.”

She looked down at him and then moved closer to his chair. “But you are,” she said.

He nodded slowly. “I am,” he said.

“And you don’t want to be kicked out in the cold?” she asked, slowly moving her arm so she could get out of his grip.

He frowned. “Not really.”

After a moment, she hesitated. “Would you be adverse to staying here tonight?” she asked before tentatively reaching up to frame his face. “With me?”

He didn’t even think about it before he settled a hand on her waist and let another one slide up her spine, trying to bring her closer, and was thankful she didn’t fight him. “I’ll stay wherever you want me to tonight, darling,” he said before he leaned in more and kissed her. This probably wasn’t the best idea, but the minute his lips touched her he’d be damned if he didn’t feel a jolt run through him, as if this was something that he _needed_ , and he had to fight the urge to pull her onto his lap and just do everything he could to make her moan in delight.

Damn it, he _knew_ drinking was going to be a bad idea.

Was he caring right now, though?

Not in the slightest.

He could feel her legs start to tremble slightly and he gently pulled her onto his lap, never breaking the kiss even as they changed positions. After a few moments, though, she pulled away and stared at him with wide eyes. “Bloody hell,” she said.

He smirked slightly. “You’re welcome.”

She reached up and played with the collar of his shirt. “So I take it you’re attracted to me?”

“You are a very attractive woman, Doctor Hooper,” he said, letting a hand settle on her waist. “Are _you_ attracted to _me_?”

“I...” She nodded. “Yes.”

He knew what the hesitation meant. It meant “ _I like you, but you aren’t Sherlock_.” So now he was stuck in a difficult position. A part of him very much wanted to take that affirmative answer and run with it, go to bed with her and show her an amazing night. The other part of him knew if he did that, he’d always be second best. He’d always be a substitute for Sherlock, even if she said he wasn’t. But soon her hand was trailing down his chest and then very lightly brushing over the bulge in his pants and he wasn’t sure rational thought was going to be an option much longer. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” he said, giving her one last chance to step back and make a choice that could, he didn’t know, keep them from screwing up something good.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his pulse point and he knew then he was a goner. When she used her teeth to graze his skin he sank his fingers into her waist and didn’t wait for her to verbalize an answer; he managed to get up out of the seat even with her on his lap and shifted so he was carrying her, heading straight for her bedroom. She moved her teeth to the bottom of his earlobe and he almost dropped her, and all she did was giggle a bit and press closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He knew one thing for sure at this point: if this friendship was going to Hell, he was damned sure going to enjoy the ride.


	4. Chapter 4

The room was too damn bright.

The mattress was too damn soft.

He wasn’t wearing any clothes.

And he wasn’t alone.

All four of those thoughts hit him at the same time as he squinted against the onslaught of light coming in from the window, and it all came back to him. Sherlock being an ass. Dinner at Molly’s. Lots of booze. Kissing. Great sex. _Great_ sex. Sleeping.

And now this.

He cautiously opened and eye and saw Molly was still asleep, her nose buried in the hollow of his neck. Hell, if he didn’t know he was a substitute for the damn consulting detective, he could probably get used to this. But it was probably better to nip this in the bud. Call it what it was, a one-night thing that...wasn’t a mistake. Hell no was he using _that_ word, but maybe...error in judgment brought on by copious amounts of whiskey? An experiment? Throwing caution to the wind? Hell, he’d even be take being called a rebound as long as the M word wasn’t thrown around.

As long as they didn’t do it again. He _liked_ Molly and wanted to keep some form of friendship with her, if he could, and he was pointedly ignoring the singsong voice in his head that sounded like a little toddler going that he _liked_ liked Molly and he _wanted_ to do this again as often as humanly possible. It could just keep it’s trap shut for now. Doing this again was a _bad_ idea.

But as she stretched again and her hand drifted lower down his abdomen, brushing curly hair, he realized he was the King of Bad Ideas and dammit, he needed to wake her up before--

Damn it.

“Good morning,” she said, pressing a kiss to his throat while her hand began to do things that were indeed making him quite happy.

“Oh yeah,” he said, letting his hand settle on the curve of her waist before he decided to do some exploring of his own. “Hope your morning is just as good?”

He could see the yawn that had started to happen when she lifted her head up become a grin and she began to squirm slightly before she let go and used her body to push him flat on his back, hovering over him and kissing him. He wasn’t quite ready to stop, though, and he could hear her whimper into the kiss. This could be an interesting way to wake up in the morning, he had no doubt.

Finally, she pulled away from the kiss and away from him, sitting on his stomach. He gave her a mock pout, staring up at her. She seemed completely comfortable being absolutely stark naked. “You took away my fun,” he said.

“Oh, I was thinking we could have more fun than that,” she said. “But you got to take quite a bit of the lead last night. I was thinking I could try my hand at it today.”

He nodded. “I’d never say no to that,” he said, settling his hands on her hips.

She grinned at him and then it became a more speculative one. “This should be a thing.”

“What should?” he asked, tracing shapes on her skin with his thumbs. 

“Mornings like this. Good shags. Just... _this_. But not...not the relationship crap.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “I think the term you’re looking for is ‘friends with benefits.’”

“Yes! Exactly!” she said with a nod, her hair falling forward. “I mean, last night was honestly the best shag I’ve ever had. Truly, you’re magnificent. But...”

“But you like Sherlock,” he said, trying to keep the sour tone out of his voice.

“Yeah,” she said. “And I’m sure there are going to be women you fancy. I mean, I’m not the type of woman you’d want to settle with. So while we’re both single, we can shag, and then if one of us enters a relationship, we stop.”

He wanted to give her the most skeptical look known to mankind because he knew _exactly_ how this was going to play out. One of them was going to fall hard. One of them was going to be oblivious. One of them was going to end it and they’d lose the sex and the friendship and he was pretty sure that person was going to be him. He should say no.

He knew he was going to say yes because he was an idiot.

“Okay,” he said, moving his hands so most of his fingers were on the small of her back, and then sliding his hands up to help pull her closer for another kiss. She returned it enthusiastically, and he knew, right then and there, he was the stupidest man to walk the Earth in the past, present or future, and at that moment he didn’t care because at least for a little while, he’d have her. And that would be worth it.


End file.
